On a Sunday mid-morning, you accompany Carol to the upper middle-class neighbourhood to the West of Nairobi to visit Carol’s daughter. You wait for like five minutes outside the gate before you are ushered into the palatial home. The daughter sees the mother, runs the 50 or so yards to meet her midway. She picks her up, kisses her and passes her over to you mid-air, which she partially resists.
You hold her high in the air, before you place her down and shake her hand. She is so young and yet, her life has been painfully disrupted by two warring adults who should know better. The whole experience has an American feel to it.